To Hell and Back—Again
by CasMyAssbutt
Summary: Dean Winchester has spent too much time waiting in the hospital. / "Sammy, please—you gotta be okay. What do I do if you're not okay?"


**Dearest Sakina's prompt:** Dean Winchester has spent too much time waiting in the hospital. / "Sammy, please—you gotta be okay. What do I do if you're not okay?"

You have the most depressing prompts, assbutt.

(To read more of her better written, amazing ideas: queenforbes—GO PUT THAT IN THE SEARCH BAR RIGHT NOW!...and then come back and read my story...please?)

**a/n -** I literally have no time to write this but I did it anyway. I have so much to catch up on. Oh, well. Who needs education, right? I have cats. Also, I GOT _1989_ WOO. Aaaaand I couldn't chose between songs so I used lyrics from _Out of The Woods_ (Taylor Swift), _Wildest Dreams _(Taylor Swift) and _Take Your Time_ (Cary Brothers)—wink, wink Sakina. I may have gotten a little lazy near the end but sssh.

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_Looking at it now_

_It all seems so simple_

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"I'm. Sorry." He pronounces the words slowly, pushing his hands against his chest. "How many times do I have to say it, Sammy?"

"A few more, Dean." Sam laughs humourlessly, shaking his head. "I just—I can't see _how_—how you could—"

"Sam." He deadpans, pauses. "I'm sorry."

Sam closes his eyes at his whisper then walks out of the room.

He slams his palm on the table, grabs a beer and walks the opposite way.

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_We were lying on your couch_

_I remember_

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"Dean, Sam is hurt."

He gulps and feels cold under the warm duvet. "Really, Cas? I hadn't noticed."

"Perhaps—"

"Oh, what? What do you want me to do?" He glances at the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink. He closes his eyes. "There's no fixing this."

"You have forgiven one another for much worse in the past."

He doesn't respond.

Castiel sighs. "Dean—"

"Just shut up and go to sleep." He mutters, giving Castiel a half teasing half serious kick.

Castiel relents and closes his eyes.

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_You took a Polaroid of us_

_Then discovered_

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Page after page after page. Book after book after book. Nothing.

"Dean, Sam is hurt."

Does he really have to fix it? Sammy will forgive him. Eventually.

"Yeah, I know, Cas. I'm working on it."

Maybe he can gain a bit of sympathy with an expensive bouquet or flash mob or—

"No, Dean. Sam is _hurt_."

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_The rest of the world was black and white_

_But we were in screaming colour_

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"Where is he?"

"Sir, would you please specify—"

"Sam Winchester—damnit!" He slaps his palm against the desk. "Where. Is. He."

He runs down the corridor faster than he would if he was running for his life.

The door swings open.

His hand stings.

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_And I remember thinking…_

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The I.V. drips. The meter beeps. The pillow between his fists screams for help.

"I'm sorry." He says, attempting to gulp away the guilt lodged in his throat. "I'm really, really sorry."

He takes a deep breath and buries his face in the cold, blue pillow. He hates Hospitals. He hates Hospitals more and more each time he's forced to visit one.

"Please don't die." He smirks a little, laughs a lot. He sees Castiel's frown deepen at his peeping place through the window in the door. "Jesus, Sammy. Please don't die."

He rubs his hand along his face.

"Sammy, please—you gotta be okay. What do I do if you're not okay?"

He gulps back more—_nothing_. Because there is nothing—NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING. Not without _Sammy_—DON'T DIE DON'T DIE DON'T DIE.

"I know that we've gotten out of Hell, Heaven and even friggin' Purgatory but—Christ, Sammy. They've probably made whole new—_place_—just for us." The pillow suddenly feels heavy in his hands. "I'd get you outta there, too. 'Course I would." He raises a weak hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I just don't want you to go." He admits. "I'd—miss you."

"Dean."

"_Cas_—We were having a moment."

He swings around, freezing when he sees the figure in the doorway.

"Hello, Dean."

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_Are we out of the woods yet?_

_Are we out of the woods yet?_

_Are we out of the woods yet?_

_Are we out of the woods?_

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"No." Is what he says first. It's all his lips can form. It's all his brain can think.

"Dean, _relax_."

Castiel places a hand on his arm.

"How do you expect me to relax, Cas?" His voice cracks on the sort-of-_mostly_-Angel's name.

"I am not here to harm you, Dean."

"It's not me I'm worrying about." He blows out a shaky breath. "So, what? A Winchester is too important for an ordinary Grim Reaper to snatch?"

Death sighs. "Dean, you are the most stubborn, cynical man I have ever met. And I play Checkers with Hitler."

He smirks, nods his head.

"But, you are also the most protective and passionate man I have ever met."

He looks down and Death continues.

"You would do _anything_ for your brother."

He slowly lifts his eyes to glare at Death.

"And what is this anything I'll be doing?"

Death smiles.

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_Are we in the clear yet?_

_Are we in the clear yet?_

_Are we in the clear yet?_

_In the clear yet?_

_Good._

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"I need blood."

He raises his eyebrows.

Death blinks, slowly tilts his head. "Lucifer's blood."

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_Are we out of the woods?_

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He chokes.

"What do you need _that_ for?"

"That information is not necessary to complete the task."

"The hell it isn't."

"_Dean_—"

"_No_, Cas. I'm not jumping into a cage with two insane Archangels without a good reason!"

"How about to save your brother?" Death quips, clearly agitated. "Is that a good enough reason, Dean Winchester?"

He glances at the still body.

"Sammy—"

"I was not speaking of that brother."

He closes his eyes. Adam. How did he completely forget about Adam? Oh, right, Soulless!Sam, King of Hell, Leviathan, Purgatory, Angels falling out of heaven, _Bobby_—there's a lot of reasons.

"Alright." He glances at Castiel before nodding at Death. "I'll do it."

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_He said, "Let's get out of this town,_

_Drive out of the city, away from the crowds_

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"Sam."

His knife is secured in its holder. The map is tucked in his pocket. His nerves are tucked in the same pocket. He's going to Hell. He's pick-pocketing Lucifer.

"I have to."

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_I thought heaven can't help me now."_

_Nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me do_wn

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It's not that he's saving Adam to replace Sam if he— It's not that. He's just, simply, saving Adam.

Why Death wants Lucifer's blood is a mystery, but he honestly doesn't care. If doing this saves Adam and cures Sam then it is well worth it—that is, if he makes it out again.

Death hands Castiel a small bottle. Castiel inspects it before nodding and passing it to him.

"Here goes nothing." He gulps it back.

He blinks and Castiel's worried frown is replaced by a smirking devil—_literally_.

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_He's so tall and handsome as hell_

_He's so bad but he does it so well_

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He looks around the 'Cage'. It's surprisingly bright, and neat. He spots a pack of cards on the round table in the centre of the room.

"Dean Whine-chester." Lucifer deadpans before smiling brightly. "Welcome to my humble abode."

He blinks.

Lucifer gestures toward the round table. "Come, come. Have a seat."

He follows hesitantly, expecting someone to jump out at him. Once seated, a chipped teacup is placed in front of him. Lucifer pours tea into the cup. He glances around but finds no possible threats—no possible exists either.

Lucifer hums at the chipped cup. "Michael did that just to spite me." He sighs wistfully. "My favourite cup." Lucifer shakes his head and laughs. "My only cup."

He drinks the tea gingerly. Lucifer places a hand on his thigh. "You know, chipped cups can be very _romantic_—I'll be your Beast if you'll be my Beauty."

He stares at Lucifer in horror. He grunts in surprise as the devil's lips slam against his.

"Dean." A voice says. "DEAN."

He gasps, jumping up. Adam frowns down at him.

"Did you get possessed by an Archangel and dragged into Lucifer's Cage, too?"

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_I can see the end as it begins_

_My one condition is_

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"I'm here to save you."

Adam blinks. He furrows his eyebrows. Adam rolls his eyes.

"Look, Dean, you more than anyone know time in Hell works differently." Adam shrugs. "I've been here a long time. I'm just kind of used to it now."

"Yeah, I'm sure the company's great."

Adam smirks a little. "Lucifer only got in your head because you were unconscious."

"Oh, is that the _only_ reason? Great."

Adam sighs. "Dean, just—you should go before Michael knows you're here."

He raises his eyebrows. "I think you have your Archangels mixed up."

"No, Michael blames you for him being stuck here. Lucifer is too preoccupied to care."

"Preoccupied? With what?"

"_Who_." Adam corrects.

He blanches.

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_I am here to fight_

_For only love decides_

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"Meg?"

The demon wiggles her fingers at him.

"Hello, Stupid."

"You've lost your touch."

"Actually I've decided to be less sarcastic and more honest."

Dean hides a smile. He missed the bitch a little.

"How did you end up here?"

"Bad decisions."

He rolls his eyes.

She purses her lips. "Crowley thought it would be—_funny_."

He nods, looking down.

She smiles, tossing a small vial of Lucifer's blood at him. "You tell my Unicorn I said hey."

He promises.

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_In the morning light_

_I will wake to find you_

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He gasps back to life. He rakes his hands along his chest and breathes out in relief. Death plucks the bottle from his pocket. He doesn't know how any of that even worked.

"Thank you, Dean."

He sighs, nods his head at Castiel.

"What _is_ it for?"

"It's quite rejuvenating for the skin."

He isn't sure if it's a joke or not. But it doesn't matter, because as soon as Death slithers out the doorway Castiel places a hand on his shoulder and turns him to face the bed.

Sam's eyes flutter open.

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_Opening your eyes_

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"Damnit." Dean says to his brother as he sits upright. "I guess this means I've still got to share a bed with Cas."


End file.
